BROTHERLY LOVE SOMETIMES HURTS

As far back as I can remember, I had never been in a fistfight, except for the few times with my brothers, the ones where I got my ass kicked.  They were not violent or long fights, just a hit in the arm from one of them, and I was done.  Usually, when I fought with my brothers, it was verbal or a crude yet innocent, facial expression; the kind kids often throw at each other from across the table at dinner time.   

I also remember getting my ass served to me by a family of bullies when I was at day camp, a fight that was provoked by my younger brother because he wanted to get back at his brothers for picking on him, I being one of them.    

Naturally,  I did pick on my younger brother from time to time, as I did my twin brother, but we called it horseplay; however, once I accidentally broke my younger brother’s arm in the prosses of playing around.   During a pillow fight on his bed, I swung at his legs just as he jumped up, causing him to fall smack dab on his arm, breaking it.     

A few months later, he gave me stitches.  At the time, I was provoking him as I sometimes did whenever I was being an ass.    He, in retaliation, threatened me with a pool stick.  To keep out of harm's way, I ran away backward while sticking my tongue out.  Unfortunately, when I turned around, I ran right into the edge of his door, causing me to knock myself out.  When I awoke, I had a large gash on my forehead.   My brother thought I was dead; I thought I looked like Frankenstein once I got the stitches.   We were just kids, and back then, scars were cool.  

We never fought after that; at least, I don’t recall ever fighting any of my brothers.  However, just about a year ago, my younger brother called me an Asshole out of the blue.  We hadn’t talked in a while as we ended up going our separate ways, only communicating occasionally.    After Dad’s passing, however, during one brief message through Facebook, he called me an asshole and blamed me for his shitty childhood.   I’ve never blamed my brothers for anything from our past, as I felt we were in it together.  I never hated my brothers or resented them, and I still don’t.  We were young and had no control over our situation.   So, for him to call me an Asshole because of his past hurt.   However, unlike him, I've never blamed anyone or anything for my unconventional upbringing.  Though I still struggle with things and have many scars, I wouldn't be the person I am today without them.     

Sometimes, it's the hard journeys through life that molds us into becoming the person we need to become.  Though I didn't always get along with my brothers growing up, I still miss even the worst of days I had with them.